


A Letter Which I Composed

by Kuraagins



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, M/M, letters but it's Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraagins/pseuds/Kuraagins
Summary: Anatole asks a wounded Fedya to write him a love letter, who doesn't expect his own words to be used against him.





	A Letter Which I Composed

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna put this as a chapter in my collection of my drabbles from tumblr but... I kind of like this one??

"Fedya, I need your help," Anatole whines dramatically, striding into the room-uninvited and in Dolokhov's mother's house. 

"How the hell did you get in here?" Dolokhov grumbles turning onto his side (facing away from Anatole) in his old, creaky bed. He was still recovering, and he could hardly bare to let Anatole see him so weak. 

"Your sweet sister let me in," Anatole replies, and Fedya can fucking hear his grin. He knows how touchy Fedya gets over his family. 

"Don't you be getting any ideas about my sister," he murmurs. 

"You know I only tease mon cher. Will you not sit up and look at me?" 

Dolokhov sighs and uses his hands to push himself up into a sitting position. He grunts and winces at the pain in his shoulder, but manages to bare through it. He will not let Anatole think that he is weak. 

Who knew that Pierre Bezukhov was a better shot than Fyodor Dolokhov the assassin?

"What do you need Anatole? As you can see there is not much I can be of assistance with," Dolokhov mutters. 

Anatole moves swiftly to Fedya's side and takes a seat on the bed. "I need you to write me a letter, dear Fedya. A love letter."

"A- a love letter?" Dolokhov splutters, "Why have you come to me for this? Isn't your sister a much more appropriate person for this task?" 

"You have such a way with words Fedya," Anatole insists, "your letters are so poetic and- and beautiful oh it must be you that writes it! How else can I convince this person how strong my feelings are?" 

"They won't be your feelings if I'm writing it," Dolokhov points out.

"Ah yes, but perhaps we are soulmates, dear Fedya. Perhaps we have a spiritual bond and my feelings will flow from my heart to your hands and spill onto the parchment, eh?" 

Fedya swallows thickly at that thought. It was amusing really. Fedya Dolokhov, who was in love with the prince. Who was devoted to him and would steal the stars and moon out of the sky just to keep him satisfied for even a moment. And Anatole Kuragin, who would always turn to Fedya because Fedya always does what he wants and he fucking knows that he'll get what he asks for. He knows that Fedya will not tell him no. 

Perhaps Anatole is right. God has never been kind to Dolokhov, of course he would be assigned a soulmate as heart crushing as Anatole Kuragin was. 

"Is it for the Rostova girl? Natasha?" He asks quietly. 

Anatole makes a nonchalant sound and hands Fedya some parchment and a quill. "Well? Will you write it?" 

'You need to tell him no,' Fedya screeches in his mind, 'you're too weak. You need to recover. You can't handle having to watch him bed yet another girl, especially not one so dangerous. Fucking tell him no for once!' 

"Of course, Tolya," is what he says. 

'You're pathetic,' he thinks to himself. 

\----

He's awoken in the middle of the night by pebbles hitting his window. 

Dolokhov pushes himself out of bed as quickly as he can, and stumbles across the dark room to the window; the sharp pain in his shoulder from the sudden movement causes him to whimper. 

He curses Anatole as he gropes his way around the room, because of course this was some stupid joke that he would pull. 

Of course, as Dolokhov throws open the window, there is Anatole. Smiling in the snow, without even a cloak. 

It would have been a pretty sight, one that would make Fedya's heart leap, if he wasn't so tired and confused and annoyed. 

"What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!" He hisses. 

Anatole pays him no mind, clears his throat and begins to speak. 

"Fedya, Fedya, Fedya  
I must love you or die.  
Fedya, Fedya, Fedya  
if you love me say yes  
and I will come and steal you away,  
steal you out of the dark,  
Fedya, Fedya, Fedya   
I want nothing more.   
Just say yes  
Just say yes   
Just say... Yes,"

'Yes,' Fedya thinks, 'yes I love him. How else could I have let him tear my heart to shreds for as long as I have known him. How else could I tolerate him sleeping with every girl he lays eyes on. How else could I let him be here and hurt me with his cruel japes,' 

"You made me write you a love letter whilst I was recovering just for some ridiculous joke?" Fedya whispers, his voice breaking. 

Anatole's smile falters. "A-a joke? Fedya no I-" 

"Leave me be Anatole. I'm injured and tired and I have no time to indulge you and your funny little antics." Tears are welling in his eyes and he turns away because he would rather die than let Anatole see him cry. 

Let him know that he's been hurt by this. 

"I mean it Fedya, I'm madly, madly in love with you!" Anatole cries. 

"You've never loved anyone, Anatole." Dolokhov states. "Hélène perhaps. But no one more than yourself," 

"It's the truth! I-I've called Balaga, we can run off to Poland together where no one will know us. We'll tell everyone we're brothers- or perhaps cousins is more believable- no one will question us living together and we can love for the rest of our lives. Do you think I would have planned all this for a joke? Do you think that I would raise twenty thousand roubles just to make you look a fool? I love you Fedya, I- I thought you loved me too. You've always been there for me, mon cher and I now know how much you mean to me," Anatole's voice is thick and Fedya can tell without looking at him that he's crying. 

"How do I know that this isn't another one of your schemes? How do I know you won't just fuck me and then get bored and toss me aside like all your other little playthings?" Dolokhov shouts, turning back to the window frame to face the other man, despite the tears flowing freely down his face. 

"Hélène she... She helped me see how much I need you. How much you mean to me. I love you Fedya, I know I have made many mistakes in the past but I beg you to let me prove to you that I have changed," 

"Why... Why would you use my own words against me...?" Fedya asks quietly. 

"I told you did I not? We're soulmates- and its true! You have captured my feelings perfectly. I must love you... Or die," Anatole sobs. 

Fedya climbs out of the window. He's only in his night clothes and the snow is harsh and freezing against his bare feet and the winter air sends a chill through his exposed skin. He shuffles over to Anatole and falls into his arms, crying like a child. 

"Yes, yes I love you," he hiccups. 

"Come to the troika, I've brought a fur cloak for you. I won't have you freezing on me, sweet Fedya," Anatole soothes through his own tears. 

He will let Anatole hurt him. Even if he only has him for this one night, Anatole has told him that he loves him. It could be all a lie. It probably is all a lie. But Dolokhov won't deny Anatole anything. 

All the way to Poland he cries in the arms of his best friend. 

He cries in the arms of his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> And then they live together in Poland forever and they're in love the end 
> 
> Also I would die with happiness if you want to hmu with requests @ tumblr user Kuraagins


End file.
